Page 85 - My Home on the Earth

back towards the bowling green. Suddenly, he heard footsteps and glanced over his shoulder to see a man behind him shouting. Unsure of his motives, John instinctively took flight and ran. Not daring to turn around, he weaved past trees and leapt over flower beds. At last he could see a park gate. He had little choice but to clamber over and in doing so ripped his new green jacket. On the other side, traffic was almost at a standstill, so he darted in and out of tooting cars, hoping to lose the man. Taking cover behind a wall, he cowered down as his heart pounded. After a few minutes, he peered up at the slow- moving traffic; the man hadn’t followed him. He felt safe, and taking deep breaths resumed his walk to the bus stop.
It was dark by the time he arrived at the factory. Making his way through the site, he reached the shed and went inside. The sunshine had warmed the interior. Under torchlight, he placed the camping stove in the centre of a broken paving slab and lit it with a cigarette lighter. Get it wrong and it could explode. Tonight, with a choice of eight tins of soup, he selected minestrone and pulled at the ring to open it. He emptied the soup into a saucepan and placed it over the burner. It smelled delicious as he dropped in lumps of brown bread. Before savouring the hot soup, he’d placed a kettle of water on the stove for a mug of tea and a hot-water bottle his mum found in the apartment. Ending the day with bananas, crisps and cake, he lay on his sleeping bag with the hot-water bottle and covered himself with four fluffy blankets. Sleep came easily and he felt as warm as toast.
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